Deserving Of
by Revalations
Summary: It was the one question I never wanted to have to answer.


Deserving Of

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><p>"Why not?"<p>

It was the question I never wanted to have to answer.

"Is…it something I've done?"

No, it's not something you did…

"Is it the way I look?"

I'm not that shallow, and even if I were, it definitely wouldn't be because of the way you looked.

"The way I am?"

"Tifa…you're perfect the way you are, and you should never change that…just…you're just…not…_right_…for me…" I trailed off, looking to the side in shame. Why do I feel ashamed? …Is it because I can't give her what she wants, or because I should be able to give her what she wants?

Her face, even from the corner of my eye, was impossible to look at in its sadness.

"That…I mean…damnit, Tifa. I didn't mean to say it like that. It's more like…"

"Yeah. 'It's not you, it's me,' right?"

I sighed, still looking down to the bedspread I was seated on. The moon shone in through the slats of the blinds, bars of light shining intermittently on our skin and clothing. It was late…later than she usually stayed up. Later than I was used to talking. But tonight, she finally got the nerve up. I never thought ignoring her feelings for me would make them go away, but it was…easier. Easier to pretend they didn't exist, easier to keep the warm, comforting cocoon of easy friendship around myself. Comforting. Acknowledging the problem makes it real, and when fragments twist together and present themselves as a full-blown issue, the issue must be dealt with.

I'm tired…of dealing with problems.

"…I don't understand."

I chanced a glance up to her face, only to find that she was looking toward the window now, her brow creased in confusion. I hated how relieved I felt that her gaze was now elsewhere.

"I just…" I trailed off, gritting my teeth in annoyance. Not annoyance at her, not really. At myself, and my inability to voice my thoughts and emotions. At my unwillingness to do so.

"This isn't something I'm just going to shake my head at and walk away from, Cloud." She turned back to face me, and though her words were harsh, her tone was tired and quiet. "I know you didn't ask for this, but I need to know why…or at least, what is it that you feel towards me? I don't understand," she repeated the last part nearly desperately.

I took a deep breath and just…started talking. I hoped that perhaps the things she needed to hear would come out.

"Tifa. You are…one of my best friends. We've been through a lot together. I have a bond with you that I don't share with many other people." I looked into her eyes, searching the depths there just as surely as she was searching mine. "But…I just…I can't feel anything like how you want me to. It's just _not there_. If I could make it appear, then…maybe…but, it doesn't matter, because it'd just be a sham. I won't pretend to be something I'm not, because that would only hurt you in the end."

There were tears in her eyes by the end of my explanation, but I steeled myself against them. I won't lie to her…I was doing her a favor by telling her how I really feel, not a disservice…even if it felt much like it was.

"Not for…anybody?"

I shook my head, a small seed of relief blooming in my chest as it sounded like she was beginning to understand.

"Nobody."

She let out a chuckle then, but it sounded almost like a hiccup. "How…sad." She shook her head, a farce of a smile turning her lips upwards as she closed her eyes and wiped at them with her fingertips. "How very sad for you, Cloud Strife."

That…confused me.

When she looked at me next, she must have seen the confusion in my face, because she explained. "A life without love? It seems…hollow. Not worth living."

Her statement nearly sounded provocative, but I ignored it in favor of the bubbling regret and depression in my stomach at the thoughts she brought up in my mind.

"No…not without love. Lost love," I choked.

With that, I stood abruptly, cutting off any questions Tifa may have asked. I don't know how long I stood motionless, but the indescribable pain I felt inside must have been showing somewhat on my expression, judging by Tifa's concerned face. I turned away when I saw her eyes, determined not to show her anything she didn't need to see.

I saw her stand slowly as well, but she stood nearly as motionless as I was, as if unsure as to what she should do. Eventually, she reached a tentative hand out and put it on my upper arm. It simply rested there, no squeezing for comfort or sympathy. She just wanted me to know that she was there, if ever I needed her. As she always had been. As she always would be.

I turned away, unwilling to let her see the depths of the emotion I was feeling just then. Without a word or any other sign of acknowledgement, I walked out of her room, closing the door behind me.

I don't deserve Tifa, and eventually she'll find someone who _is_ deserving of everything she is.


End file.
